“I think you know what. You totally engineered that fight between Tristan and Madden. Admit it. You set them up.”
He shrugs and looks back at his computer, obviously not caring one little bit. “Yeah? So?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” I burst out, so tired of him manipulating this show. Manipulating people’s feelings.
“Are you kidding me?” he counters. “Get over it, Maya. It’s a goddamn reality show. People expect this shit. They want to see it. It’s my job to give them what they want. And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
I grind my teeth. He’s such an asshole.
“What about what Megan wants?”
He arches a brow, giving me a condescending look. “I’m hoping this little encounter will force Megan to make a fucking choice. The ratings are high, but the viewers are going to get impatient. They want her to choose already. They want to see some good stuff. If she doesn’t get on with it already she’s going to ruin the finale of the show.” His voice becomes steely. “I won’t allow that to happen. I’ve got too much invested in this show to let her fuck it up.”
I stare at him, shocked, but not really, that he’d say all this. He doesn’t care at all that people are going to get hurt. That there are real feelings at stake here. He just keeps right on blathering about his precious viewers, not even bothering to look at me.
“Reports show that Madden has a slight lead with the viewers. They want to see him win. So, let’s give them what they want.”
I don’t move, furious at what he’s implying.
After a long moment, he looks up at me as if he doesn’t understand why I’m still standing here. “Do I need to spell it out for you, Maya? Push Megan toward Madden. She listens to you. Let her believe he’s in love with her and that he’s the one she needs to choose.” Then, as if he doesn’t see the look of disgust on my face, he keeps right on, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head, propping his feet on the desk.
“I’m can already see it.” He takes one hand and spreads it across the air in front of him as if he’s envisioning a marquee. “We’ll create a spinoff show about Megan and Madden, something about a wedding or some shit. Then we can put Tristan on his own show. The brooding, intense billionaire bachelor. Bring in a bunch of new women to win his heart after it was broken by Megan. The viewers will eat that shit up.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “There’s no way I can force Megan to choose. It has to be her decision.” It’s all I can think to say. He doesn’t care at all. This really is all a game to him.
Everett’s eyes harden and his takes his feet off the desk and stands, staring down at me with his beady eyes. “You’ll get the right results for this finale or you can find yourself a new job. Do you understand?”
I stare at him for a long moment, letting his words sink in. Then I lift my chin in acknowledgment and spin on my heel, walking out the door without another word. We’ll see.
Megan
“We have to stop meeting like t
his.”
Maya grins at my little joke. She’s pulled me into the bathroom yet again, but then she gets serious. “Megan, what are you doing?”
I can only assume she means what happened yesterday between me and Tristan and Madden. I feel like I should be embarrassed. I mean, that was all caught on camera. Me and two men. Them doing all kinds of wonderfully naughty things to me. But I’m not. It just felt…right.
I sigh. “What do you want me to say?”
“How about what’s going on in your head right now?”
I’m sure she’s just trying to look out for me. She’s become my friend after all this time in the house, and God knows I could use a friend right now with all the craziness.
“Honestly?” I say, lifting a shoulder. “I really like what happened yesterday. It felt good. It felt right. I think I’m most comfortable with Tristan and Madden sharing me. I can’t explain it. It was just perfect. I can’t decide between them, I want them both, so it just makes sense. I really want to choose them both.”
I stop and gauge Maya’s reaction. She just looks at me blankly. Obviously that won’t fly. And the finale is nearly here.
Rolling my shoulders, which are so tense all of a sudden—I try to make her feel better. “Don’t worry. I’m going to go talk to both of them and see where we stand and then I’ll make my decision.”
“Megan, I think you need to follow your heart.”
I nod. Of course. My heart. That crazy thing that’s so conflicted that the mere idea of having to say goodbye to either Tristan or Madden has it squeezing in my chest. What does following my heart even mean? Because right now, all my heart wants is both of them.
“I will.”
“But,” she continues, her voice cryptic, her eyes a mystery, “remember that rules are made to be broken. Maybe it’s time for you to make your own rules.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, then leaves me alone.